


Because We Can

by dokidave



Category: South Park
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Situational Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2019-05-25 02:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14966822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dokidave/pseuds/dokidave
Summary: "Where's Clyde?""He's…" Craig gave Clyde a sly look and Clyde already knew what Craig was thinking. "…around," he finished, turning to give Clyde's dad a smile.





	Because We Can

"Time to partyyyyy!" Clyde shouted, pumping both fists into the air.

Craig just looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "Why's that?" he asked. There was no reason for Clyde to suddenly be so animated. True, Clyde's dad wasn't home, but that wasn't any different from any other Saturday night. Saturday night was normally retro gaming night, where they break out the big guns. Atari. Sega. You name it. Saturday nights.

"Why the hell  _not_?" Clyde asked. And with that, he hopped off the couch and made his way into the kitchen. Craig watched the doorway with mild interest until Clyde reappeared with a bottle of tequila. A  _full bottle_  of tequila.  _Whipped cream_  tequila.

 _Tequila_.

"I see you brought alcohol back with you," Craig said, eyeing the bottle before turning his eyes back up on Clyde. "Straight?" he asked, noticing the absence of cups and mixable beverages.

"Psh, go big or go home," Clyde said, flopping back down on the couch. They both knew it was a load of shit – Clyde would be slammed after maybe two slugs – but neither of them cared because alcohol was alcohol and a party was a party, no matter how small.

"Pop that bitch open," Craig said, abandoning his Pong controller on the ground.

One foamy mess and several passes of the bottle led to another mess and two very much drunk teenage boys.

"Oh my god, do you think my dad will be mad that I dropped that on the carpet?" Clyde asked. He barely noticed the sway to his body with the swimming in his head as he gazed down at the draining bottle that he never bothered to pick up.

Craig shook his head. "Nah, bro, I think he'll be more pissed off that you wasted half a bottle of his tequila," he said.

"Oh shit, you're right," Clyde said. Panic began to rise in his gut and he turned to Craig to vocalize his worry but—damn. Craig looked really good tonight.

Really good.

With his hat hair that he never brushed and his half hanging open hoodie and his glazed eyes and his flushed cheeks and his little drunk smile and before Clyde knew what he was doing, he'd leaned over for a kiss.

He was insistent, pulling his whole body into the action, for all of about thirty seconds before he realized that he was kissing Craig. "Bro," he said, pulling back a small bit. "Either you're a terrible kisser or you're actually just lazy enough to not push me off if you didn't want that."

Craig looked at Clyde's eyes – or tried, it was kind of hard to do with his fuzzed vision and how close their faces were. "I just wanted to see how long you'd keep it up if I didn't do anything," he said. It was hard to tell if it was the truth or a lie. Even drunk, it was hard to tell if Craig was being sincere or not.

"And what did you figure out, Einstein?" Clyde asked. He wasn't sure if he should be offended or not, but a pretty large part of his brain was sill sprinting with thoughts of how fine Craig looked and how much he wanted Craig to take his shirt off.

"You're definitely a homo," Craig said. Even still, he didn't move. He didn't seem bothered in the slightest by the fact that Clyde had all but crawled on top of him.

The insult went completely over Clyde's head and he just leaned in closer, wanting to taste Craig again; to see what he tasted like on the inside. "Come on, you know you want to kiss me," he said.

"No, you want me to want to kiss you. There's a difference," Craig said, but his blood was starting to pump a little faster with that damn look Clyde was giving him. "Why would I want to kiss you?"

"Why  _not_?" Clyde asked, his voice a harsh whisper as he connected their mouths once again. This time Craig had no issues with participating. Clyde was right.  _Why not_?

They got heated pretty quickly and soon enough they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. Their kisses got fierce and anywhere they could touch, they did. Hands slid under clothing and lips met skin and tongue.

Soon enough, Craig had Clyde on his back and he was smirking down at him something wicked. They were both short on breath and there was a short moment where their eyes connected. A silent agreement led to Craig unbuttoning Clyde's jeans and sticking his hand inside.

He took Clyde in hand and Clyde let out a long sigh of relief. He'd been dying to be touched, and he finally had what he wanted. Craig was about to start, but a certain noise made his heart stop for a second.

The front door opened.

Craig, being the only one in a position to see over the back of the couch, turned to see Mr. Donovan standing in the doorway, taking off his shoes.

Well shit.

"Hi, Craig," he greeted with a smile. Craig looked down at Clyde and Clyde's eyes were wide as fucking saucers.

"Uh, hi, Mr. Donovan," Craig greeted back.

"Where's Clyde?"

"He's…" Craig gave Clyde a sly look and Clyde already knew what Craig was thinking. He mouthed the word  _No no no no no_  over and over again, but since when was that enough to stop Craig Tucker?

"…around," he finished, turning to give Clyde's dad a smile. He started to move his hand on Clyde.

Clyde yelped and slapped a hand across his mouth. His eyes pleaded with Craig to stop, but Craig merely pursed his lips and pretended not to understand. "How was your day at work, Mr. Donovan?" he asked.

Clyde squeezed his eyes shut, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes with how hard he was biting his own hand.

Craig proceeded to nod and respond with simple answers as he was talked to, sparing Clyde a glance every now and then to see how he was holding up. This was fucking priceless.

It wasn't long before Clyde was bucking his hips against Craig's and whining quietly behind his hand. He was close and Craig knew it so he gave Clyde what he needed. Craig waved Clyde's dad off up the stairs with his free hand and not three seconds later, Clyde was shuddering his release.

"You're a fucking asshole!" he whispered hotly, a quiet scream. He sat up and proceeded to beat Craig with a pillow until he was even more out of breath. No matter how many times he hit him, though, Craig didn't stop laughing. "Oh, you're going to pay for this," Clyde hissed.

"Oh yeah?" Craig asked, still grinning that smug fucking grin. "How?"

Clyde buttoned his jeans back up and rolled away from Craig and onto the floor. He stood up and all but yanked Craig off the couch. "You'll fucking see when we're behind a  _locked door so_ my dad can't walk in," Clyde hissed. He was mad –  _so pissed_ – but he was still unbelievably turned on. What the fuck.

"Cool," Craig said as he let himself be dragged up the stairs.

"We'll see how cool it is after you're screaming my name, asshole," Clyde grumbled.

The door was locked and he had Craig on his bed and there was alcohol in their veins and it was definitely better than regular retro game night.

It was just about as loud, though. Good thing Clyde's dad was a heavy sleeper.


End file.
